A Different Kind of Ocean
by Lollipop1141
Summary: "There's a lot of fish in the sea. And in space, there's a ton of sea. And some of those seas don't even have fish!" a Klance fanfic. Post-canon au.


**A oneshot that's more than 1000 words! A personal achievement! And of course, it just had to be Klance for me to vomit out 4,000+ words!**

 **The middle part was written on my phone, the ending was written in my laptop, which then switched to the phone and later on in the morning finished in my laptop, and the beginning written in here. All in that order.**

 **Welp, enjoy!**

* * *

 _"There's a lot of fish in the sea. And in space, there's a ton of sea. And some of those seas don't even have fish!"_

Lance lived by the ocean his whole life. The morning sea breeze floating in his room, bringing in sprinkles of sand, waves crashing on the shore, seagulls flying overhead, those were his alarm clocks every morning.

The sizzling smell of bacon, empanadas, bitter coffee, and fried egg assaulted his nose as he walked downstairs for breakfast. He missed those days. He had those every day until he was twelve and moved to the Garrison. After that, it was only two times a year, every summer and winter break.

But now that they had toppled down the Galra Empire, Allura had given the paladins more leeway to go home and spend time with their family. It would take a while to patch up Earth, much more the universe, but now that the worst was over, Lance had high hopes for the future. And apparently, he didn't partake one of those future fantasies to play out in real life.

Lance rubbed his eyes as he took in the sight of Keith in his pair of T-shirt and shorts in the middle of the living room. He occasionally brought the paladins over to his home, but never once did Keith spend the night.

"Morning." Keith said. Lance looked around, wondering if someone would jump out and just say _'Jinx!'_ like that sick program of tricking people. Because Keith could not be here, in his living room, in his clothes, looking right at home.

"How…?"

Keith raised an eyebrow. "Wow, you must've been really out of it if you forgot me cradling you in my arms when I brought you inside last night."

"You did **what**?!" Lance screeched. But then he saw the smirk. "Oh haha very funny, mullet. Very funny."

"No, really." Keith walked towards the kitchen to help set the table. "You were so excited, you ran into the pillar. You were in a daze the whole time."

"I –" Lance frowned, wracking his brain for memories, but seeing Keith fitting in his family and being so… **domestic** – that set him off for a moment. Not in a bad way, but in a good way. A really good way. Grabbing a set of utensils, he set them down on each plate Keith put down. "You're pulling my leg."

"Took you long enough. I had to use Black to fly us here. You were half asleep the whole time."

"But you didn't cradle me in your arms?" Lance asked suspiciously.

"Maybe." Keith teased. Lance tried to stab him with a fork, but Keith brought up the plate, the fork making a dent on the porcelain. With a war cry, the two chased each other around the table.

"Aww look at that. The husbands are having their first fight."

Lance whirled around and brandished the fork towards his eldest sister. "First, Veronica, shut up," – "Leandro! I will not have you curse on your sister!" His mother scolded – "second, we're not husbands. Third, I would like to inform you that I have won every fight we had."

Keith poked him on the side, earning a squeal from the boy, and he quickly pulled the fork away from his hand. Keith stepped back, twirling the utensil in his hand. "Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better."

"Keith you quiznack!"

"Still not using that word correctly."

Breakfast was a noisy affair, as it had always been in the Mcclain household. Everyone talked to everyone, with a passing of dishes from one end of the table to another. There was Lance's aunt feeding the twins on the baby chairs on the opposite side. His older sister, Mia, grabbed another serving of sausage despite having three on her plate, much to the complaint of Veronica. While his father was having a deep conversation with Carlos, his mother was serving Lance another heap of _arroz con polo_ on his plate.

"Mama, you know I'm already stuffed." Lance said teasingly but still shoved the food in his mouth.

"Stuffed? Look at you, _mijo_ , you're still a stick!" His mother chided. " _Dios mío. ¿qué comes en el espacio?_ "

"A perfectly good serving of food goo." Lance said good-naturedly, inhaling a few garlic knots within seconds. "Imagine all those nutrient pills and some kind of green rice, mash it all up until it becomes sludge, and that's what you get. Healthy, alien, and totally tasting bland. Seriously, I could've done with some salt in space."

"With your personality, there's enough salt to go around." Keith muttered beside him. Lance's jaw dropped.

"How dare –" Lance grabbed a scoop of Extra Spicy _picadillo_ and shoved it at Keith's face, missing his mouth and stabbing it on his cheek instead. "You come into my house and I come here for a good time and I feel so attacked right now!"

"You're the one attacking me!" Keith protested, wrestling the spoon away.

"Boys please!" Lance's mother said sternly, "I know you both love the food, but its better if the food was inside your mouths instead of all over your face, _comprender_?"

There was a mumble of ' _yes mama_ ' and ' _sorry_ ' before the two tucked in the meal once more. Suffice to say, his mother kicked them out of the house after breakfast before they broke something.

...

Keith paused as he took in the scenery in front of him. The ocean sparkled in the light, rolling around and catching the sunset like kaleidoscopic diamonds.

They had spent the whole morning and afternoon exploring lagoons and fishing. Sometimes, they walked in town, posing with the locals and accepting gifts. Other times, they helped with the repairs on the buildings that were affected by the attack. And on the way back, they took a stop by the beach.

He didn't know he was holding his breath as he exhaled, "I can't believe you see this every day."

Lance chuckled. "Me neither."

"I can't see any reason to leave this place." Keith faced him, puzzlement shown in the wrinkle of his eyebrows. "Why would you leave this?"

Lance stilled. No one really bothered to ask him that question, not really in his large bustling family or in the Garrison. It was as though they knew the reason, or just assumed so.

"I guess I just wanted to see a different kind of ocean. One that's filled with stars."

Keith stayed quiet, waiting for him to elaborate. Lance fiddled the hem of his shirt, eyes fixed on the horizon. His tan skin glowed under the sun, as it craved the heat that space never gave. Even the freckles around his shoulders that weren't prominent before flared up into constellations.

"I went out night surfing for the first time." He said slowly, as though reliving the experience. "I was sitting on my board, bobbing with the waves, and the ocean was still - as still as it could get.

"It was like I was swimming in the stars. I looked up to space and wondered what it would like, swimming among the stars, surfing in cosmos and –" Lance realized he was starting to step into bonding territory and cleared his throat, putting on his usual air of bravado. "And yeah, this was the origin story of Lancy Lance, Defender of the Universe. Thank you for coming to the show."

Despite the abrupt ending, Keith still regarded him with that serious gaze. Lance swallowed thickly and looked away. He couldn't afford to ruin this moment.

Keith finally tore his gaze away and kicked the sand with his bare foot. "Y'know, I've never been to the ocean. I mean, to this Earth's ocean. I lived in the desert my whole life. There wasn't much for beach trips."

Lance's eyes widened and then it turned in one of the widest grins he's ever seen. "Then what are you waiting for? Let's get in!"

"Wait What? No, I-" it was too late as Lance dragged him into the water, water splashing around their ankles, and then up to their waist until they were deep enough that the water was chest level. Then with another shit-eating grin, Lance dunked him in the water.

Keith knew enough not to ingest the water. That didn't stop him from flailing around in panic because Lance knew that he couldn't swim, _that ingrate!_

He kicked his legs from under him. As Lance doubled, he was free to come up for air, heaving in huge gulps.

"You - you quiznacker!" Keith glared. "You know I can't swim!"

Lance just laughed. And even though he was supposed to be pissed, he couldn't help the anger melting away. It had been a while since the last time Keith heard him laugh so...freely - without inhibitions, without the worry of dying every day or being taken down by the hands of the Galra. It was mirth and it was nice to listen to. (Later on, he would wonder how many times he could make Lance laugh like that.)

"When's your favourite time to surf?" Keith asked.

Lance was surprised at the sudden question, but his eyes lit up and he said enthusiastically, "At night when the moon is full and the stars are out. Unlike LED lights where it just bounces off the surface of the water, moonlight is actually like a light bulb in the sky! It illuminates everything without it being harsh. Also, with a full moon, the greater the gravitational pull, the bigger the waves!"

As Lance began to elaborate, Keith could no longer follow, but he listened nonetheless. He listened to his voice. He listened to his enthusiasm. He listened to the accent that was faintly there. Keith wasn't much good at following orders or listening to others, but if it's Lance...If it's Lance, he would listen.

"Hey, I've got an idea!" Lance shouted, interrupting himself from his own tirade. Keith automatically gave him a doubtful look. "Don't give me that, I know you like my ideas."

"If it's out on the battlefield, then yes, you're good at that. Ideas for fun? I seriously doubt it."

Lance squinted, wondering if Keith was complimenting him or insulting him. Whatever. "Stay the night."

Keith looked at him as if he grew a second head. "What?"

"Stay the night." Lance repeated, grin growing larger. His eyes shone with excitement. "I'll take you out in the ocean at night when the stars are out."

Keith could think of a hundred and one ways Lance's idea could go wrong. In all the right directions. Most of them leading to something steamy. Keith was so glad the ocean breeze was getting colder.

Once again, "What?"

"Come on, Keith." Lance could barely keep out the excitement from his voice. "We've defeated the Galra Empire! We deserve to have a celebration!"

"And you think going out swimming in the dark is a good idea?" Keith said skeptically.

"Yes." Lance insisted, impatient with his teammate's hesitation, "C'mon cowboy, you can't be afraid of a little water compared to a life-or-death situation. You go swimming in space for crying out loud!"

"I would like to inform you that one, I've got rockets that come with the suit. Two, we've explored space more than we do our own ocean which is only 2%, and three," Keith tightened his grip around Lance's arm, thrashing his legs underneath the water, "I can't swim."

Lance rolled his eyes. "That's why I'm bringing a boat, you big baby."

Keith opened his mouth, but then shut it as he realized (not once but more often than he liked) that Lance had come up with a good idea again. Grumbling, he muttered, "If I drown, Black's gonna eat you."

"Yes!" Lance pumped up his fist, quite forgetting Keith's grip for a moment. With a squawk, Keith sank under, only to come sputtering up as Lance pulled him with a string of (not so sorry) apologies. The air was filled with squabbles as they proceeded back to shore where Lance's sister waited to fetch them for dinner.

…

"-eith…pssst…Keith – buddy – my man…"

Keith grumbled, swatting away the mosquito. Unfortunately, the mosquito was Lance whose face met smack dab with the back of Keith's hand.

"Ow – quiznack! Keith!" Lance hissed. Suddenly, he was slammed on the floor, a knife hovering under his chin. Keith's half asleep expression quickly morphed into awareness and his eyes widened at what he just did.

Keith scrambled up in a flurry of hushed apologies as he helped Lance stand. "Sorry about that. Force of habit."

"Is alright." Lance flexed his shoulder, adjusting his backpack, not bothered by the sudden throw. He'd experience worse. Clearing his throat, he said tightly, "Just keep it down, yeah? It's 2 a.m. and everyone's asleep. Carolina is a light sleeper, so if she knows we're sneaking out, she's gonna tell mama for sure."

"Right." Keith nodded. He followed after Lance as they skulked out of the room and tiptoed out the hall, mastering the art of stealth from the years of infiltrating Galra bases.

Lance put a finger up his mouth, pointing at the third stair. Carefully skipping it, they crossed the living room and quickly got out the back door. Sticking to the shadows, they hurried out the front lawn and then ran down the street.

When they reached a distance from the house, Lance let out a whoop of excitement and sprinted. His enthusiasm was so addicting that Keith couldn't help grinning and speeding up. They raced to the beach, kicking up sand.

"This way!" Lance bounded for the pier and Keith followed. He watched curiously as Lance ducked and disappeared underneath, only to slowly reappear, tugging a rowboat. "Come help me, buddy. Stop standing around and looking pretty."

Keith blushed a furious red and helped him, tossing his flip-flops inside. "Don't call me pretty."

"Whatever, mullet man." Lance teased. It took them a while to reach the waters, as the tides had pulled, leaving a long stretch of beach open. As their feet sank on the wet sand, Keith looked around in fascination. He could see everything as clear as day, despite the sky being night and everything bathed in a silvery glow.

With the last pull, the boat floated on the water. Keith climbed in, dipping the boat a little further in the water. He was going to ask Lance on how to row a boat when his face was met with a jacket and a t-shirt. Angrily pulling it off, he was about to reprimand him when his words died down his throat.

Lance had cupped the water and poured it over his head, droplets sliding down his torso, tracing hard muscles accumulated over the years of training. Lance opened his eyes, blue irises glowing silver under the moonlight. At that very moment, Keith was very glad for the dark.

Of course, when admiration was pointed in his direction, his 'sixth' sense would pick it up. Lance smirked. "Like what you see?"

"Shut up!" Keith snapped a towel at him, but Lance ducked under the boat and reappeared at the back, laughing. Pushing off the shallow waters, Keith clung on the sides for dear life as the boat wobbled. "You sure this is safe?"

"Please. Bessie was made for the ocean at night." Lance swam to the right of the boat, stirring it into open waters. "Or are you saying you don't trust me?"

"Of course I trust you," Keith said bluntly. "I just don't trust your boat."

"Well, you better trust good ol' Bess 'cause you're the one sitting in her now, not me." Lance pointed out, still grinning. Keith huffed but settled back in. It was quiet with only the crash of waves in the distant shore, the occasional horns of fishing ships, and Lance's breathing filling in.

Deciding that it was a good distance away to be undisturbed, Lance stopped the boat and they drifted in the open sea. It took a few moments, but finally, the bobbing settled to lazy floating and Keith understood.

They were floating in an ocean of stars.

Looking down, he could trace the constellations in the water, moving but clear enough to be identified. He knew planets and stars were fixed, but from the waves that pushed and pulled, it was like space had come alive.

"Did you believe in aliens after seeing this?" Keith whispered. "With the water making space look alive and all that."

Lance snorted. "Only you would make a conspiracy theory out of moving stars."

Keith frowned, eyes trained at a dancing Ursa Manor. "It's no longer a conspiracy if aliens are real. I'm living proof."

"You're part alien."

"I still have outer space genes though." Keith shrugged. "Alien enough to confirm conspiracy theories."

Lance had no argument against that, so he opted to climb up the boat, earning a yell from Keith as it threatened to topple over. Facing away from Keith, he looked up at the sky, marveling at the sight of his galaxy. He'd been to outer space. He'd always seen stars and planets. But those didn't compare to **his** night sky.

"You think there's a space cow out there?" He blurted out.

"Kaltenecker." Was Keith's automatic reply.

"No, I mean," Lance waved his arm to the sky, "A space cow that's big enough to spill milk."

Keith was silent for an unnaturally long time, Lance wondered if he actually slipped and drowned. Just as he was about to turn around to check on him, a chuckle slipped out. And then another. And another until Keith was doubling over with laughter. "Are-Are you serious? Are you actually saying that our galaxy came from a cow?"

"Well, if there are aliens, there's bound to be a space cow! And if there's a space cow, then there gotta be milk." Lance reasoned, his voice betraying his dismay as he realized how ridiculous he actually sounded.

He didn't know how Keith could laugh harder, but he did. Lance turned around and caught the breathless sight of Keith's head tilted back, happiness spilling out of him. A few giggles in, and Lance joined him, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

For a moment, they were just two best friends laughing in a boat in the middle of a starry ocean.

As their laughs petered into hiccups, Keith gazed at him with a soft look of adoration, saying, "You really are something else, huh."

Lance tilted his head. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Keith shrugged. "You're like this, I guess."

"Like what?"

"A different kind of ocean. An ocean full of stars."

Lance felt like his heart would combust. Did Keith just – no, he couldn't. "I, ah, um – thanks."

"No problem." Keith said nonchalantly as if giving Lance a heart attack was no big deal. With a cough, Lance turned away from him, willing his heart to calm down. As he looked up, his ears still ringing from the compliment, he formed a thought.

"If I'm the ocean, then you're the sky." Lance said.

"…what?" It was quiet, more like a squeak.

Lance spilled out, "We both share the same lions, sometimes a step ahead, sometimes together, Lance and Keith, neck and neck, two opposites of the same coin – mirrors.

"I've always admired you - tried to mirror you, actually." Lance confessed. Their rivalry had long been forgotten after the umpteenth time of them saving each other. "Except for that mullet - I still think it's horrid."

"You're never gonna let this go, huh." Keith grumbled from behind him.

"Nope!" Lance said cheerily. But then he sobered up, and said quietly, "You've always been the night sky to me. Large, unfathomable, distant."

There was a pause, and then Lance felt a warm hand pressed on his back. A shiver ran down his spine, breaking goosebumps along his skin. He felt fingers trace the path of a massive scar – his first space scar – gently, taking its time. It paused and then settled once again on the center of his back.

"But I'm right here, Lance."

Lance stilled and then exhaled. "I know."

They were quiet, with Keith's hand still on his back. Then Keith said, "If I'm your sky, then you're my earth. You keep me grounded. The whole team would've been in jeopardy if it weren't for you. You say you mirror me? You reflect me, but you're so much deeper than that, with so much more depth to be explored, and I would gladly drown if only to know you better."

Lance groaned, startling Keith into retracting his hand. "Keith, buddy, you can't just say stuff like that!"

"Like what? Say the truth?" Keith asked, confused. "I meant every word of it."

Keith was trying to kill him, Lance decided. Keith was trying to kill him and he would die a happy man.

"So you're the one who can dish out, but can't take one." Keith wondered out loud. From the stiffening of his back, Keith knew it was true. Well, this was going to be fun.

"Lance, you're amazing."

"Keith, what are you doing?" Lance said suspiciously.

"You're one of the most selfless people I know, always putting others before yourself, and I respect you for that."

"Keith, stop." Lance whined.

Keith pressed his palm on the scar. "Sometimes, I hate your scars. It reminds me of how I wasn't there to protect you."

"S'not your fault." Lance mumbled.

"I – we wouldn't know what we would've done if we lost you, you self-sacrificing idiot." Keith said, a crack catching the end.

"Sorry." Lance said quietly, jumping a little as Keith thumped his forehead on his back. Hot breath fanned down his spine.

Recovering his voice, Keith continued, "I still think you're our number one Sharpshooter. To me at least, you're number one."

"You're still going?!" Lance exclaimed. His face was on fire at this point, giving Red's fire powers a run their money. "Keith, seriously man, I don't think I can take it."

"Suck it up and accept them then. You know they're true." Keith said.

"If I say I'll believe everything you've said, will you stop?"

"Only if you'll face me."

Lance gulped. "Can I just accept without having to face you?"

"Lance, look at me."

"Because I do believe everything you say. I swear."

"Look at me, Lance."

"I know you mean everything you say, so of course I believe you."

"So then why don't you look at me?"

Lance chewed on his bottom lip and said in a hoarse whisper, "Keith, please."

"Don't you trust me?"

Of course, he just had to pull that card. "You know I trust you, Keith."

"Then face me."

With a groan, he twisted around with eyes screwed shut. "There! Happy?"

Keith sighed in exasperation. Trust Lance to be stubborn about getting compliments. "Why are you being difficult?"

"Well, why are you acting so weird?" Lance retorted back.

"I'm not the one who has his eyes screwed shut and refusing to listen to a confession."

"Well, I'm not the one who - wait, what?" Lance's eyes fluttered open. That was Keith's chance.

Grabbing the sides of his face, Keith leaned in and said, "I love you."

To say that Lance was shocked was an understatement. To say that he looked like a fish out of the water was a little more accurate.

"Did you hear me?" Keith asked seriously. Lance nodded.

"Do you believe me?" Keith asked again. Lance hesitated.

This time, Keith pressed his lips against Lance's. It was a chaste one, too short to really turn into something more, but long enough to confirm the sensation.

" **Now** , do you believe me?" Keith asked one last time. Lance nodded. "Good."

Keith let go and leaned back, feeling the breeze and enjoying the sight; which was either the stars or Lance combusting in front of him.

"That-" Lance audibly swallowed, "That was something."

"It's something, alright." Keith let out a puff of laughter.

Lance glared at him. "Hey, don't make fun of me!"

Keith brought up his hands in defense. "I'm not! I'm just saying."

Before he could chicken out, Lance slapped his palms on Keith's and entwined their hands together. "Just - just for the record, I love you more."

"I love you the most." Keith quipped back easily, gently bumping his forehead onto his.

"Stop one-upping me." Lance grumbled.

Keith snickered. "Wouldn't be us if I didn't."

"True." Lance smiled. He took in the sight of Keith who had his eyes closed, a gentle smile on his face, and he said, "Are you from outer space? 'Cause your beauty is out of this world."

"What the - Lance!"

Trust the loverboy to spout out a pickup line in the middle of a serious moment. Keith's face was beet red and Lance gleefully realized that he liked his lines. Laughter spilled out once more.

There was a lot of exploration to do for mankind, but for these two particular defenders of the Universe, exploring each other was something they were willing to spend their whole lives on.

* * *

I **think I really need a** Beta.. ANYWAY **, thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!**


End file.
